Borrowed Levels

Chapter 23: Hesk

The bracket drew Ren against Hesk in the round of sixteen.

He read the name on the herald's scroll twice before he understood it. Then he looked up at the balcony, and the Treasurer raised his teacup, smiling, and Ren knew that someone had done this on purpose.

"Voss," he muttered.

"What?" said Dara. She had slipped into the fighters' passage with a forged pass. Her face was pale. "Ren, you can't. You can't. She's your friend."

"I know."

"If you beat her, they'll keep her in the pit. If you lose, they take the Ledger."

"I know."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," he said.

He walked onto the sand.

Hesk was already waiting. They had given her a sword and a shield and a collar of pale iron. It sat around her neck like a dog's. In the sunlight, it gave off a thin, wavering shimmer. A thread ran from it, thicker than the others, up into the air toward the balcony.

"Ren," she said. Her voice was low and flat and entirely calm. "Don't hold back."

"Hesk..."

"They're listening. If they think you're pulling blows, they hurt Pip." She raised her shield. "Fight me."

The bell rang.

Hesk came at him like a falling wall. Her shield smashed into his ribs and drove him across the sand. He rolled, came up, and parried her sword with both arms. The impact shook his teeth.

She was not holding back.

She could not. The collar glowed bright with each blow, and a pulse of silver ran down its thread, and her strength came in surges that did not belong to her. Ren saw it in her eyes. A quiet horror. A woman trapped behind her own arms.

"Ren," she said, between blows. "The collar."

He ducked a swing. "What about it?"

"It's linked to Ilyra. Like the others." A hard shield strike. He staggered. "If you can cut the thread..."

"I can't reach it! It's attached to the balcony!"

"Then use the girl!"

He stared at her through the whirl of dust. She had already figured it out, of course. Hesk, who never said a word, who saw everything.

Ren planted his feet and called through the link he had made in the cellar. He did not speak. He only pushed, in his mind, toward a distant cool silver glow.

Ilyra. Now.

The response came like a rush of cold water. Strength flooded his arms. The Ledger flared.

[ CHOSEN LINK: ACTIVE. ] [ TARGET: FORCED LINK ON HESK. ] [ CONTEST BEGUN. ]

He lunged. His sword rang against the iron collar, and a spark ran down the blade. The silver thread lit up, trembled, and then, with a sound like a snapped harp string, parted.

Hesk stopped.

The collar fell off her neck and landed in the sand. She stood for a moment, swaying, then reached up and touched her own throat with one large, shaking hand.

"Oh," she said softly.

The crowd had gone absolutely silent. High on the balcony, the Treasurer's smile had frozen.

Hesk looked down at Ren. A real smile, small and crooked and entirely her own, spread slowly across her face.

"I yield," she said.

The arena erupted.